


Ananke

by sparklight



Series: Iliou Persis [1]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Iliad - Homer
Genre: Apples, Drama, Epic Cycle, Fate & Destiny, Gen, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Trojan War, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: Sometimes it doesn't matter how well you plan.Sometimes it takes only one, impossibly insignificant and terribly important person to make the wrong decision, and you just have to deal with the fallout. But before that, there are apples, and a wedding!Who doesn't like weddings?
Relationships: Eris | Discordia/Enyo (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ganymede/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: Iliou Persis [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789012
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue: Best Laid Plans

There were events in the world that happened, couldn't _not_ happen; these were events that had little to do with mortal lives aside from how they would, inevitably, be affected. They lived on the earth, thus escape was impossible, but the individuals involved mattered little. Not even gods could escape them, for they were obliged to follow the pattern set. Though few, even among the gods, would know which events were such inevitable ones, and which were not. Terrible, pitiless necessity, which forms the base of fate! Perhaps it was even more cruel to those who _did_ know, for they knew enough to plan for these events, to hopefully adjust them so the spirit of necessity was fulfilled, but its shape more pleasant to the eye and heart.

The quandary with plans was that even the best of them could be ruined by such simple things as a single decision, a step taken to the left or the right; necessity would make sure the end result was what was needed, either way, regardless what individual divine desire wished.

Steering necessity wasn't futile, no. It simply involved an unavoidable sliver of chance; a plan that had to rely on both divine and mortal players acting without all the information, for if they knew they would fight against it, and necessity would have taken things to their end, perhaps far more terribly. This was one of those events, a chain of delicately strung together decisions that, had they been simpler, it might not have been so awful. That only one, mortal, individual's decision was what ruined it and left necessity reaping what was the worst outcome for some, but not all, involved, was truly a miracle on its own.

In the beginning, though, not even Zeus knew how it would end, and in the beginning Zeus was seated at the highest peak of Olympos, one hand on a knee, the other buried in soft curls, and his eyes closed. Ganymede's slight weight against his leg was a thread of distraction, but it offered warmth as well while Zeus sat, silent, and let the world fill him. He could feel it through his feet, against his skin, the shift in the air. Perfect balance spun around him in a delicate dance, but the longer he sat there, the more it became clear there was a dissonance, a half-step wrong. Something that needed to be corrected. Something that needed _done_. 

Slowly combing through the curls in his hand, Zeus pressed his lips together. He did not like this. He liked it even less for the youth at his feet, the way it would lead to those brilliant green eyes darkened by pain and tears. He'd already seen that happening once, in a similar situation as this would be, and Ganymede hadn't even fully cried, then. He would do anything he could to ward anything such off, but this wasn't his son's sack of Troy, where he had been able to rather easily direct the short events, steer them towards a much milder outcome than otherwise. So he would, if he could, tear the foundations of order apart and put them back together more favourably for this one, precious individual – but he could not. Not this time, not for this. Not in a way that wouldn’t tear some of his very functions and self apart as well, too tightly wound up in the order as he was. What he could do was of smaller influence, but if he was exactingly careful he might land on something more pleasant. And perhaps it could be worked around entirely. To do that...

With a sigh, Zeus finally stirred and lifted his hand away from the thick, luscious curls. Ganymede tipped his head back, a silent question in his wide green eyes.

"No. I need you to go fetch Themis. I need to talk to her."

"Of course," Ganymede shrugged, easy as you please, and shot the god a small smile as he stood up, unknowing of the weight that laid behind the decision. Zeus watched him go and sighed, dragging a hand down his face. After a couple minutes he got up and followed in his cupbearer's footsteps, though he went directly to the room he and Themis usually met in. Leaving the door open behind him as he sat down, Zeus stared at the two cups on the small table between his and Themis’ comfortable chairs, their backs and legs heavily curved.

Themis would be able to see angles he couldn’t, would, also, be able to tell any nuance he might have missed, as attuned as she was to the divine and cosmic order. They would find a course of events more pleasing than the immediate ones.

They would.

Zeus didn't need to wait long, turning his thoughts over and over, before Ganymede's bright laughter could be heard in the corridor outside, preceding both Themis and the youth himself. Zeus straightened up and schooled his expression as Themis came and sat down across from him and Ganymede came over, a silver pitcher decorated with the winding arms of an octopus in his hands. Picking up the first kylix and filling it easily, he gave it over to Zeus. Long, thick lashes lowered a little and a tiny smile bloomed out on his face when Zeus' grip briefly tangled their fingers together. Then they slid apart, and Ganymede picked up the second cup.

"Here, my lady." Ganymede smiled as he handed the kylix over to Themis, the molded decoration of a sword balancing on the two cups of a scale at the bottom completely hidden by the nectar. It was a long time since the formerly mortal prince had been even vaguely hesitant about his task, nervous about spilling the precious contents. Now, there was nothing but secure grace in the way he handled both pitcher and cups.

"Thank you, Ganymede." Themis took her kylix with a small smile and sipped it while Ganymede slid backwards from them, stopped in his retreat by Zeus catching him by the hip. The boy bent towards the King of the Gods like a young willow for wind, a pleased little smile lighting his face and turning his green eyes to jewels at the kiss brushed to the corner of his mouth. He glanced to Themis, and, by the look of it, he might have turned to face Zeus fully and let the kiss be deepened if she hadn't been there.

"We won't be needing you for the rest of the afternoon," Zeus said, letting Ganymede straighten up with a squeeze to the hip before he let go, "Go back to the scrolls I gave you."

Ganymede pulled a face, but he nodded. Still, as he put the jug on the table in the corner, he hesitated, understandably confused. He was usually allowed - or required - to stay for these sort of discussions, so being sent away was definitely unusual. With a last look to Zeus, who only shook his head, Ganymede went. The door slid closed and locked itself behind him, a soft clack in the silence.

"What now, Kronides?" Themis arched an eyebrow, studying Zeus over the rim of her kylix. "You haven't sent the boy away before, and I doubt you have cause to think he's suddenly become untrustworthy."

Even the bare suggestion of such an accusation had Zeus scowling at her, leaving Themis chuckling into her nectar and disarming Zeus' defensiveness.

"Ganymede is a compassionate soul, and he doesn't need to know the full extent of the impact this discussion will have," Zeus said with heavy finality in his voice, frowning down into the rosy gold nectar he hadn't touched yet, "you've felt it, I assume?"

"She'd never say anything considering the relationship she has with us, but yes. Gaia's not ready for the weight humanity is becoming. You must have sent notice to the other spheres as well?"

"I will. Sealed messages instead of verbal ones. I’m sure Iris and Hermes will be surprised, but they will, of course, go." Zeus shrugged, rubbing his bearded chin. "How much bloodshed would you estimate would be needed on our end?"

How many humans would have to die within their sphere, that was. Themis sighed, tipping her head back, closing her eyes.

"... Years. It has to be dragged out. At least five, perhaps ten, depending on how losses might accrue. Possibly more than one war, too." She opened her midnight eyes again to look into Zeus' gray ones, still and solemn. He would ruthlessly go through with the necessity, had done so before, regardless of the heart he dearly wished to spare; that didn't make it any less of a weighty decision. Watching him as he considered her input, she could pick out the moment where he started to pick out possibilities. "Where?"

Zeus knocked back half the contents of his kylix in one swig, putting it down on the table between them, the piece of furniture an elegant swirl of bronze and silver of the plane of earth being balanced on three graceful waves.

"I haven't decided yet. There are several ways this could go, all resulting in many lives lost. None of which even touches on which of the potential sides that might be afforded the eventual victory."

Themis frowned, watching him.

"Some of those possibilities weigh heavier than the others, and you don't like them."

"... No," Zeus said with a heavy sigh and drained the rest of his nectar, "I don't. But it might not even come to that."

"Well, let's hear it then," Themis said, settling back in her chair and resting her kylix on her knee, "and I'll see what I can do to help bend things into a more favourable course."

She smiled and said nothing about the light of gratitude in Zeus' pale eyes, stormy at the moment. In the end, maybe not any of even her advice might do any good and they would simply have to bend to the most expedient solution that would reap the most lives. Such were necessity sometimes, and even Zeus knew that.


	2. Apples for Eris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thetis gets two great kings and gods' attention on her, but ends up with nothing but a mortal. Eris gets a gift from her girlfriend, and decides to use part of it to avenge an insult paid to her.
> 
> This is the beginning; from here, there is no going back.

At first Zeus delayed, procrastinated and just plain did not wish to decide on any particular course of action simply because this would be terribly involved and huge either way, and it wasn't entirely certain that fate itself wouldn't wish to lean towards the 'solution' that would end with the highest number of casualties. All of which involved things Zeus would rather they not involve. But Zeus was king for a reason, and the supreme ruler of Olympos' realm, so in the end, he bowed.

He had to.

And he bowed to the necessity of taking the most drastic course of action without being forced by fate, the one that meant most people died. The one that, no matter how he turned the events, involved Troy. Themis was sympathetic, but she saw what he did and could only do so much. It did not mean he, again, had to act _immediately_ , something he was even more loath to do now that Troy's involvement was inevitable in some way or another. So, the second stage of procrastinating about setting things in motion was more about obsessively turning every possible course of events over and over, then how to reach those various courses of events, and lastly to determine which was best. Which of those would have him - and other people this would hit the hardest, which merely added an additional spur - lose the least.

In the end, perhaps it was both ironic and inevitable that it was his own wandering eyes and lust that offered what seemed to be the perfect inciting event. With a bit of outside push, admittedly, for he wasn’t paying attention to anything but his desire at that moment.

It was at one of the commemorative celebrations of their victory over the Titans - that year held by Poseidon - that Zeus was surprised by the beauty of Thetis. Not that he hadn't seen the Nereid before; he had, and plenty so. Perhaps it was just the light, filtered blue through the water and taking on a crystal tinge from the thick glass it was filtered through that embraced her in a way as to make her shine, picked out the blueish-green highlights and shadows in her hair, made her skin shimmering pale. Perhaps it was the way she smiled that evening, or something of what she said, particularly witty. Whatever it was, Zeus wasn't alone in seeing it. Poseidon, too, was following Thetis' graceful progress across the floor as she danced with a couple of her sisters as well as Calliope and Terpsichore.

Zeus took her hand as the dance wound down, having gotten to her before Poseidon did, and smiled.

"Your skill shines through among your sisters and my daughters, like a graceful heron among swans, however beautiful. Words seem paltry appreciation though - I could express it better elsewhere, in private."

Bright, bright blue eyes looked up to the King of the Gods and Thetis' fingers twitched, slender where they were caught in Zeus' great grip. Something turned, lightly, in the back of Zeus' head, at the edges of his essence, but he ignored it. Thetis was a far more alluring focus of his attention.

"Father Zeus," she said, a frown slowly, but reluctantly, colouring her voice, her face, her eyes, "I might be interested in such appreciation if I didn't treasure your queen and wife as I do. Mother Hera reared me long before you married her, and while I could do nothing but come to your aid a while ago, for that was what was proper, this, I can't bend my heart to."

Firmly, she pulled on her hand, and Zeus let her take it back, even if he was already flushing with the sting of rejection - even barely honeyed as it was with her admitting that she might otherwise have been interested. Glowering at Thetis’ retreating back, Zeus scowled to see Poseidon approach her next. Thetis was probably not going to agree to anything, if she was interested, in Poseidon's halls, as they belonged to Amphitrite as well. It was a balm, however small, but aside from that it would give him some time for another attempt, to work around Thetis' resistance, however understandable the angle of it was. He _wanted_ her, and he was sore unwilling to let Poseidon have something he could not have, so he would have her. And if not him, then none of the Deathless Ones would. Again, there was a distant sensation of weight shifting, but Zeus was more focused on Thetis' shapely back, its graceful lines revealed through the thin, close-fitting robe she wore, and the smarmy smirk on Poseidon’s face as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

Focused on that as he was, Zeus also entirely missed Themis approaching him, a frown on her face. Zeus might not have been paying attention to the shifting of the universe at the moment, of potential fate settling into a terrible egg to be hatched, but Themis could feel it like it was her own bones moving. She did not wish a change such as would come from this.

"Zeus, call Poseidon over here."

"What---?" Frustration cut short when he actually looked over at her, catching the tension in her dark eyes, the set of her mouth. "... What is it?"

"Poseidon needs to hear this too," Themis said, loud enough to draw attention to them from revellers who'd so far paid polite pretence to not noticing Zeus' and Themis' exchange. Caught, Zeus sighed.

" _Poseidon_!" His voice rolled through the room, filling it like thunder and driving Poseidon away from Thetis’ side. Of course, Poseidon leaving her meant she turned, too, her long, lovely dark hair shimmering with blue as she moved, though she didn't come over. Everyone else around them were definitely paying attention now, unfortunately.

" _What_? You're a sore loser, Zeus, you kno---"

"Themis has something to say," Zeus snapped, stepping aside to give more space for her, and Poseidon as he looked to her subsided, however reluctantly. He saw it on her face, and, perhaps, finally felt the potential shift they had, deep down in his essence. Zeus definitely was, or at least was finally admitting that he could feel it. Could almost pick out the shape of the potential future, the fate, attached to that shift, but Themis had always been better at _potentialities_. His skill lay with what would absolutely be, things that couldn't be avoided in shape or function, merely steered by how of it - hence the slight wiggle freedom in how to relieve Gaia of the current weight of humanity.

"Know that Thetis, daughter of Nereus, carries the seed of Metis; whosoever has a son by her will find the son to surpass the father, and his deeds shall be thereafter."

The aether as well as the floor underneath their feet trembled from the surety and weight of Themis' true words, and Zeus closed his eyes. His desire was suddenly of a lot less acute need. But besides that...

He could see the how he could use this. 

That abstaining from pursuing Thetis would keep both him and Olympos' order safe was imperative. That it also would deprive Poseidon - who by now undoubtedly was a lot less interested in pursuing Thetis as well, since there was no guarantee a son greater than him would afford him a place of honour during a change in the sphere - of something Zeus could not have was a pleasant bonus. More importantly, it was a way to lead to where things needed to go. The whole of it would require some careful maneuvers, yes, but by accounting for how certain individuals were sure to react, and act...

Zeus very carefully didn't smile, and even if he would have, it would have been a grim one entirely devoid of triumph or pleasure. This was a necessary evil he was trying to corral to as pleasant a conclusion as he could manage; there was no pleasure to take from that other than hopefully leaving Troy and her people standing.

"Poseidon..?" Zeus opened his eyes and glanced to his brother, arching an eyebrow. Poseidon scowled but nodded, throwing his hands up and taking a step back. Nodding as well, Zeus looked up, across the floor, and met those crystal blue eyes, which widened with paling realization. "Daughter of Nereus. You will marry none of the blessed gods; a mortal will be your lot. I will, however, make sure he is worthy of you."

Thetis flushed, her lovely face screwing up with rage. "You---! And after I... No mortal would be worthy to marry one of my father's daughters, even less _me_! I refuse!"

Zeus let her storm out of the feasting hall, for it didn't matter. She wasn't marrying right this second, least of all because he did need to find a suitable husband for silver-footed Thetis _to marry_. There were other considerations, too, that needed to be dealt with before any wedding could come to pass. It was clear that Thetis would require convincing by her future potential groom no matter what, however.

Ah well. Whoever he was, if he was to be worthy of Thetis at all, he would manage to convince her.

Peleus did, too, when Zeus and Themis found said man to be Thetis' future husband. Zeus could have slighted the goddess further with the choice. Could have taken the safest way out and chosen nearly anyone, to be assured that _greater than his father_ would not mean further trouble. Sometimes even mortals, especially those with divine parentage, could become true threats to the order. But that would have been a step too far; Thetis was a powerful nymph, a daughter of Nereus and Doris, and, if she could not be wed to one of the Deathless Ones, the mortal should be worthy of her. The potential risk was worth it.

And, completely aside from that, if Zeus knowingly and deliberately slighted the foster daughter of Hera by giving her a bad marriage and an unworthy husband, things would have turned dire indeed. So, Zeus and Themis had searched and, finally, settled on Peleus, son of Aeacus. He did need some advice to win over Thetis' resistance, but in the end it was still up to nothing but Peleus' skill, determination and resilience.

It was enough. Thetis, exhausted, eyed her future husband with more consideration than offended anger when she was finally forced back into a more human guise, and what was left, then, was to plan the wedding. It was honestly a pity it couldn't be allowed to be _just_ a wedding. Thetis deserved it, for what she was, for who her parents were, for who she was to Hera. Zeus needed the occasion, however, and so the wedding would have to perform double duty. Zeus considered the council arrayed before him as he listened to Hera's stern, though delighted, commands that this had to pay proper honour to her foster daughter, and thus, that all of them should attend. Yes, all of them indeed should.

 _Almost_ all of them.

"I agree," Zeus said, his voice alone drawing all attention which made the tap of his scepter against the floor entirely unnecessary, "but to ensure the wedding remains a peaceful and happy affair, Eris will not be welcome."

Murmurs of agreement followed this proclamation, because it only made sense, didn't it? Even Enyo could be trusted to behave at a wedding, if barely so, as it was not a battlefield or a scene of conflict, but Eris? Eris could turn even the most peaceful of occasions into a tangle of chaos. Of course, Eris had never been explicitly barred from any divine feast or celebration before, but it was a sound precaution to do so, wasn't it? Zeus stared out at the hall, and knew what he had done. Knew it even more keenly as he felt a glare from the opposite of the council hall and looked over, meeting sharp eyes as gray as his own.

"Do you have something to say, Ares?" Zeus' voice lowered, the threat implicit in the darkness of his tone - as genuine as it needed to be, for he would stop at nothing to have this done as he wished it - and Ares, after a couple quiet moments, pressed his lips together.

"... No, Father."

No, indeed. But Ares would, intentionally or not, ensure that Eris found out she'd been forbidden to attend this wedding, and thus Eris would come. She wouldn't be able to help herself, not just because it was certainly a direct insult to expressly bar one of the Deathless Ones from a celebration all the rest were attending, but also because she would not be able to help to wish to disturb the order her being barred meant. She would, of course, not be satisfied with merely crashing the wedding feast, and that, too, was what Zeus wanted. This all relied on fine knowledge of what any given individual was likely to do, and Zeus seldom needed to use it at such a fine-grained level, but needs must. The only thing he currently had no direct influence over was how to ensure Eris chose a method of disruption that would lead where he wanted it to.

... No, he did have such a method at his disposal, he realized just then; dreams could afflict mortals as well as the gods, when they indulged. Eris would find herself indulging in the days to come, and while that would not convince her of anything, it didn't need to. All it'd need to do was seed an idea, an inspiration for later chaos.

The meeting moved on, and Zeus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relieve the tension in the back of his neck, buzzing in his head. This was a wedding, and should be as unburdened of a happy occasion as it could be, even though it had come from a somewhat unpleasant source and Zeus still finding himself annoyed at being thwarted. Necessity left no choice, however.

###### 

Eris quite loved to sleep. It was a frankly amazing way to while away some time when she had so much of it. She also loved to go diving for dreams, for they were even better than her full and self-aware intention for amusements. She did have to do it intentionally; the immortal gods didn't dream, not naturally or needed as mortals did, but that only made her all the more pleased _to dream_. It felt like going against order, and Eris was, of course, quite fond of that.

The last few days had given her a couple dreams that all felt they could lead to something interesting, but she hadn’t yet been able to put her finger exactly on how it might be. Swans squabbling over pomegranate seeds, or gold nuggets, but there were too few of them to feed them all so they were beating each other off to get what there was all too themselves. A beauty contest which she won without even entering. The _swans_ being in the contest and she awarded the price to a still-downy cygnet instead. A goose (she was the goose) dropping rocks, fruit and other random items on people's heads from above, causing them to run around pell-mell, trying to avoid the projectiles. All silly, nonsensical scenarios, but her dreams, even when they were nothing but silly and nonsensical, were all very good inspiration. It was just a question of figuring out how.

Which would certainly be easier to do if Enyo was home. Yes, she was a distraction, and one that took up a lot of attention! But Eris thought best _with_ distractions, and Enyo was both the best and most beloved of them. Unfortunately Enyo was with the Amazons currently, blowing off some steam - due back soon, any day now in fact, but not _here_. She hadn’t gone with Enyo as Eris respected that Ares prefer she not drag the sort of chaos that sometimes simply sprang up without her intentionally making it so around her. Enyo, too, knew to behave herself with her brother's daughters (actual or spiritually adopted as all Amazons were by Ares) or he'd chase her away and sulk.

Which, make no mistake, could be terribly funny, but when it came to making Ares sulk, both Eris and Enyo preferred to make him sulk over things less dear to his heart. Unless it was taking some potshots at Aphrodite, for as much as they appreciated the goddess for clearly seeing Ares' worth, that was still always fun and worth it even if it usually had Ares off in a huff. He could take it, and didn't hold a grudge. At least not for long! Certainly never long enough for either of them to regret it.

Perhaps she could make a quick visit, though. Just a short one, and ride with Enyo on her way back? As Eris considered this while also thinking about the goose-dropping-things-on-people's-heads dream, a clatter came from the entrance. Following that, a helmet came flying in sideways through the doorway, sunlight briefly catching in the rows of boar tusk fragments before the helmet bounced against the wall, making a dent in the fresco of a grove of olive trees. Well, maybe it was time for some re-decoration.

"Butterfly!" Enyo came flying in through the door after her helmet like she was Boreas himself, which was an accomplishment since she was neither the North Wind nor did she have wings. Eris stood up, threw her arms out, and caught her, twirling them around with the help of the momentum from the slight push of Enyo's impact. Very slight. Enyo might be muscled, but she was slender enough there could have gone a little more than one and a half of Enyo to one of herself, and to Eris she weighed nothing.

"Honeybee!" Eris twirled them again, catching Enyo by the butt for a self-indulgent moment before she shifted her arms in under Enyo properly, giving her somewhere to sit and definitely not putting her down again. "Swifter than I was expecting, so can I hope my bright allure and our days apart kept you from straying into the tempting path of a battlefield or two on the way home?"

"I would _never_ delay coming home!" Enyo declared with false and fake outrage, because she definitely would and Eris would not hold it against her. "I was missing you, my darling, so I had to leave, though Ares' current crop of girls are magnificent. I did take a detour, however!"

Hands came up to cradle Eris' full-cheeked face and she smiled into the kiss. Bit Enyo's lip, got a bite back, and then they were practically wrestling all the while Enyo's hands remained gentle, thumbs stroking her cheeks... and probably smudging the makeup. Ah well, small sacrifices.

"Detour?" Eris asked, arching an eyebrow when they finally parted and let her wings drop and fold back. Not that there was anyone to see and neither of them really would have cared if there _had been_. It was just something about the first coming-home kisses that made Eris do such things, much the way Enyo's hands were the most gentle, and always on her face, during the same.

"For the greatest and loveliest daughter of Nyx, only the best gifts," Enyo said with a wide, toothy smile and pulled a golden apple from the knapsack hanging from her waist, holding it between them by the stem. "I contemplated wrestling Ladon for your gift, but I was in a hurry so I was more stealthy about it, but here you are, butterfly. A lovely apple for a lovely goddess!"

"A detour indeed!" Laughing, Eris still couldn't contain her pleasure, and, switching Enyo to one arm since she was easily both strong enough, and her arm broad enough, to hold Enyo up by an arm alone - she could, in all honesty, have used only her hand - and snatched the apple up with all due speed. She didn't tear into it immediately; no, these things should be _savoured_ , and so breathed in the crisp, honey-golden scent that clung to the firm skin. Stuck her tongue out, too, just a teasing initial taste of sunlight and apple-scent on her tongue, but otherwise she restrained herself. "You know how to come home with gifts worthy of the Queen of Heaven herself, honeybee."

They grinned at each other, pointed, pointy and amused, and then a great big clattering crash in the entrance startled Eris' wings wide and Enyo almost fell off her perch. Eyeing each other with raised eyebrows, Enyo, after catching herself, slid off and Eris let her, tossing the apple up and down in time with Ares' stomping steps.

"Bless your temper, little brother. What is it?" Enyo asked with a laugh like she hadn't tossed her own spear and helmet upon arrival and waved off his nearly habitual glower at being called the younger, since he was certainly born before Enyo. It didn't stop her from treating him as if he was years her junior. Enyo draped herself against Eris' side while Ares stomped over to one of the available chairs, throwing himself into it with such gusto it creaked, no matter how well-made.

"If you break that, you'll repair it. With your hands, Ares, dearest," Eris said, catching her apple for a last time and contemplated whether to eat it now or later.

"It won't break," he said, scoffing, and that might well be true, but that wasn't the point, was it? Not that the chair or anything else in this house that wasn't strictly in Eris' and Enyo's couple of rooms weren't all theirs collectively or Ares' alone, since it was as much his house as it was theirs, though it hadn't started out that way. Ares had adjusted quickly though, and Thrace was a lovely place for a home to return to. "There's a wedding."

Ares pulled a face, running a hand through his curls and half set to tug them out by all appearances, and Eris and Enyo snorted in unison.

"If you pull your hair out your lovely lady will just be disappointed you've made her work harder and then you'll still have to go, y'know," Enyo said with a flap of her hand, her other stealing down Eris' back, out of Ares' sight, to squeeze her butt. Eris smacked hers in return, earning herself a yelp, and then they both laughed while Ares gave them an entirely different glower. "What? You interrupted our reunion! What do you expect?"

Grumbling, he shook his head, leaning forward in his seat with his lower arms resting against his knees. "From the two of you? Nothing. And if I pull my hair out, making Aphrodite's work harder will be the least of my worries."

True. Kypris could make anything work and make it look absolutely stunning as well, but she would be most wroth with her lover if he ruined his pretty curls, that was for sure.

"Why in such high dudgeon, then? We don't care about a wedding," Eris said, flicking her wing instead of a hand while she rubbed her thumb over the apple, wrapping her other arm around Enyo's slim waist and staunchly ignored the teasing pinch to the swell of her own from Enyo's clever fingers. She'd take care of that soon enough.

"Eris isn't invited."

Eris and Enyo glanced at each other, eyebrows raised once more, and Eris frowned as she looked back to Ares. She wasn't sure she quite understood the words - the intent - fully. It was an unfamiliar context.

"So? We wouldn't have come anyway. What does it matter? Enyo?" Eris cocked her head, and Ares shook his. The late afternoon sunlight falling in through the skylight caught as honey gold in his hair as it did on the apple, a stark contrast with both his sister's and Eris' dark hair.

" _You_ aren't invited."

The repeat made it sink in. How strange. She'd never really cared for the Olympians' feasts much, but she'd never explicitly been _left out of_ one before, explicitly forbidden to attend like this.

"Does Father Zeus enjoy insulting a daughter of Night so much?" Enyo cried, offended and instantly on the warpath, paying her father both the greatest of respect and meanest insult in one address both. She never called him just _Father_ , only such as what any other of the Deathless Ones might address him by as a sign of respect.

"Never mind that, honeybee," Eris said calmly, squeezing Enyo's waist and wrapping one of her wings about her, too, tipping her head back as she thought. How rude, truly. It was an insult, yes, but it didn't cut deep in a way that mattered. It _did_ make her want to go just to show the great and mighty Olympians what she thought of their _invitations_. On the other hand she didn't much wish to turn up in a way that might mean she would have to truly attend... hm. "Did you get any more apples, by the way?"

Eris glanced at the one in her hand and tightened her grip on it. No, she wasn't sacrificing her gift, even for an insult such as this.

"You're not angry?" Ares looked as bewildered and offended as Enyo still clearly was on her behalf, and they were both utterly darling, really. She shook her head, smiling as sweetly as anything - which, of course, had Ares shudder and look away. As well he might.

"Of course I didn't just take _one_ , but I don't think eating more than one of mother dearest's apples is much of a revenge, you know..." Enyo trailed off with a frown, turning into a pout as Eris only shook her head again. Obligingly Enyo pulled two more apples from the bag at her side, and Eris snatched up one of them.

"No, no, not eating. Not more than the one you gifted me, and one for you too, I see. No, it's fine. You'll see." Grinning wide now, Eris leaned down, pressing Enyo close to her and kissed her until she melted into her embrace and mouth both, which of course caused Ares to groan loudly enough he might make the rafters tremble. He could deal with it. It wasn't like he was staying for long if there was to be a wedding soon. Aphrodite would want to make sure they matched. Eris' grin was toothy against Enyo's mouth.

Her dream had had something about swans fighting, hadn’t it?


	3. Interlude: A Lesson on Fate and Necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thetis and Peleus are set to marry the next day, and Zeus is not so comfortable with what he's hatched, but there is nothing to do about that. Ganymede offers both distraction and a way to, if unknown to his cupbearer, explain and warn for the coming events.

Ganymede was hovering in that soft, unfocused place where he wasn't fully asleep, but not yet entirely awake. It had a golden sort of haze to it, and his limbs were perfectly relaxed and heavy, warm like liquid honey. There was a hand in his hair, steadily combing through it, and a solid weight around him, wrapped around his back and pressing him closer to the distant, rhythmic thump of power and heartbeat both. He was content to stay here for as long as he could, though his internal clock was winding tighter in a way that told Ganymede he soon probably should give in and let himself wake up the rest of the way.

The heavy sigh from above jolted him out of his half-aware dozing before he could make the decision whether to listen to the internal warning that said it was late morning or continue to ignore it. Frowning, Ganymede scrunched his nose, fingers twitching against the soft skin that covered Zeus' waist and tipped his head back, cheek brushing against the broad chest as he did so.

"... Zeus?"

Zeus blinked, then looked down, the gray of his eyes dark but softening to a paler shade as their gazes met. He arched an eyebrow as he pursed his lips in a grimace only emphasized by the short beard around that beautiful mouth. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

"I was practically awake already," Ganymede said, and it wasn't exactly a lie even if it also wasn't the whole truth. Stretching his arm out a little more deliberately so he could curve it around Zeus' waist instead of just letting it dangle over it, Ganymede tipped his head back enough so he could rest his chin against the firm swell of Zeus' chest. Sure, that strained his neck, but it pulled a lurking smile out of the King of the Gods, so Ganymede found it well worth it, at least for a little while. "What is it?"

Zeus stared at him for a long, silent moment, then raised his gaze again, tightening his grip to press Ganymede closer as he did so, and said nothing, at least at first. So Ganymede waited, and while he was half curled up and didn't reach very far, he stuck a foot between Zeus' legs, resting his sole against the back of Zeus' calf. Now, even if he'd been stretched out full he wouldn't have reached to fully tangle their legs together, even less so as he was tugged up so he could rest against Zeus' chest. But this was good too. His foot was comfortable where it was, the firm curve of Zeus' muscled calf a perfect spot to rest it, and Zeus' thighs were warm around his leg.

"Nothing." A large finger came forward to brush some curls away from Ganymede's face, tucking them behind an ear and then nearly immediately dislodging them again when Zeus went back to combing through his hair. "Do you know what anakne is?"

The swerve in topic had Ganymede silent for a couple moments, trying to catch up, before he nodded, slowly. "Necessity? Which gives fate its shape?"

Zeus had settled at least somewhat now, the air around him soft and contemplative, and Ganymede was both glad to see it and hoping he'd answered the question to satisfaction. Zeus in a teaching mood was as interesting as it was nerve-wracking, less because Zeus was disappointed when he got something wrong and more because Ganymede would rather just be at least somewhat correct to start with. He had some pride, after all.

"A pretty good way to phrase it," Zeus said with a chuckle, another brush of fingers to half tuck his curls away and then disturbing them again, soft hair tickling Ganymede's forehead, temples, cheeks. "Fate isn't always _necessity_ , however."

"It isn't?"

"Fate is fine-grained, fate can and often do deal with people. Particular individuals. Sometimes because of actions others have taken, which echo down into others, actions as well as people, sometimes because of who the individuals are, all on their own, for their qualities or bloodlines. Necessity doesn't care about _individuals_." Zeus paused, lips pursed, his gaze a distant, thoughtful thing even as his hand continued to slowly run through Ganymede's curls. He could have fallen asleep again like this, with Zeus' rumbling voice and hand soft in his hair, but the words, the underlying tension that was revealed the longer Zeus talked, kept Ganymede awake. "Necessity deals in events. Large-scale; the individuals involved may be anyone, as long as the ending is as necessity demands it to be. Fate is softer than necessity."

Ganymede couldn't help himself, let out a noise that definitely wasn't subtle and far too incredulous. Zeus glanced down and laughed, a booming roll of it. Ganymede thought it sounded a little relieved, as if it'd released some of the tension, and he was glad for that.

"It is, my prince. Fate isn't always what _will_ or _must_ be. Sometimes it's what _can_ be. Often when humans ask for prophecy, they're as likely to want what has been told as they're likely to not want it, if they can figure out what has been told to them, but they always seem to regard it as something that _will_ happen. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's only advice; possibility. Not everything is fate, but even when it is, the details can sometimes be moved around, shifted. Reinterpreted."

His amusement fading away, Zeus sighed. Ganymede, watching that tension creep back in around the lines of Zeus' mouth, almost but not entirely hidden by his beard, the way his grip around him tightened again, frowned. He had no idea why this was causing Zeus such stress, or what he could do to help, but he did want to do something about it. So while he finally had to give up on the way his head was tilted, which might be just as well if the twinge in his neck was anything to go by, Ganymede replaced it by shoving his other hand up to spread out over Zeus' chest, over his heart.

"Necessity just _is_. Even gods have to bend to necessity. It might be more easily planned, but sometimes there is no other action but one. Necessity is the walls, floor, ceiling; fate is the furniture, the textiles and cushions." Zeus' hands crept in to cradle Ganymede's face, but Zeus didn't pull him up or bent down himself, just held him there. Pinned him with the heaviness of that silvery gaze, the set of his mouth, the weight of the power under Zeus' skin. "Do you understand, Ganymede?"

Did he? He wasn't sure what had brought this on. There wasn’t much Ganymede could think of that’d happened recently that might fit what he was talking about. Surely Zeus wasn't so very piqued by being barred from pursuing Thetis that _this_ was his reaction to it, a day before the wedding? And a wedding seemed far too particular to have anything to do with _ananke_ anyway, the way it’d been defined.

"I... think I do, my lord?"

Zeus stared at him for another moment, and then finally pulled him up into a kiss, devouring every scrap of attention, and Ganymede was glad to give it. It was more straightforward than this bewildering, if interesting, conversation had been.


	4. The Wedding on Mount Pelion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thetis and Peleus wed on Mount Pelion, well-attended by many immortal guests - and one very uninvited person making a brief appearance, all according to plan.
> 
> There's no way this could go wrong, right?

Mount Pelion was draped for spring when Thetis was brought by torch-lit procession to Peleus' house. Hera herself oversaw the proceedings across the threshold, but afterwards the immortal wedding guests, along with the divine bride and her very much mortal groom, took themselves up onto the mountain for the feast in the darkening twilight. The large mountain meadow was ringed with beech and a scatter of oak trees, new leaves whispering in the cool evening air while light was offered by the torches that'd been part of the procession. They cast an amber light around the long tables, over the golden plates and cups; gilded the new grass barely being trod by immortal feet, and darkened the shadows at the edges of the feasting place.

The meadow smelled green and wild, and floating over that were the scents of nectar and wine, roasted meat and fresh fruits. It was strange mix of immortal and mortal, and Ganymede, as he followed Hebe over to where the nymphs had placed a small, golden krater of nectar for the first drink, almost sneezed. It wasn't just that it was a long time ago since he'd smelled so many earthly scents, never mind the intermingling with more ethereal ones; it was the fact that the mortal scents were so heavy at all around the blessed gods. Most of that was, of course, for Peleus' sake, as most of the regular food the gods consumed had all been touched by nectar or ambrosia in some way, or was straight up made from ambrosia to simply imitate mortal foodstuffs. 

It made his stomach clench uncomfortably and entirely unexpectedly, and at first Ganymede didn’t understand. Then, glancing over to the table again, he slowly realized where the issue might be. These pure mortal scents reminded him of Troy, of his childhood. If he’d known… well, it didn’t matter. He would have been here anyway. So while he would not easily forget tonight, it would be kinder on his no-longer-mortal flesh and but still rather mortal mind if he perhaps kept to only eating ambrosia and nectar tonight - it would be hard to forget otherwise, and harder to eat as he normally did.

Leaning into Hebe as he dipped the pitcher into the krater to fill it, Ganymede stretched up on tiptoe to get closer to her ear, and at least he _could_ reach her ear at all by doing this! 

"All of them for the first drink?" Ganymede couldn't help some wariness slipping through, for there was a wide array of guests present. Not as many as for the only divine wedding he'd attended so far, but Thetis' sisters alone numbered forty-nine in all. That would take them a while, being only two of them, because he was pretty sure the nymphs were only taking over for the rest of the feast. At least when it'd been Dionysos and Ariadne, the only ones to be served directly by his hands for the first cup had been only a couple more than the usual. Now...

"It'll go quicker than you think," Hebe whispered in reply, but she was eyeing the crowd with a secret pout lurking on her lips, "and don't focus on the time it's taking or how many we have left. That’ll make feel like it’s going quicker than it might be, but either way it doesn't matter. It’ll take the time it does."

"You haven't been missing this, I see," he said with a little smirk and lifted his pitcher up so Hebe could take her turn, and she huffed, threateningly shaking her elbow near his side.

"I am a married woman now!" she laughed as she pulled her now-full jug out of the nectar, shimmering like a golden star-lit sky. "Well, let's get this dealt with. First my parents, then Thetis' parents, then the bride and groom themselves... _then_ everyone else after the usual order."

Ganymede nodded and turned with her. He'd known that already, but the reminder gave some easy numbers to count down from. It was just a pity that after the smaller groups, there was a very large one. For now, though, there was Zeus and Hera, seated at the table with Nereus and Doris beside them. Ganymede was glad for Hebe's presence since she attended to her mother. Sure, both he and Queen Hera were professional in situations like these, or any other where he was supposed to be serving her, but it was vastly simpler to be able to 'ignore' her while he took Zeus' kylix and filled it; vastly simpler to know that after this he'd proceed over to Nereus instead of reaching for Hera's kylix. There was no pause to take a small courtesy sip from the kylix either from Ganymede or Hebe; it wouldn't have been suitable for a situation as this. Still, even with less time to observe, Ganymede still didn't miss the brief tension as his eyes met Zeus', and while he didn't frown, concerned that might be noticed, he mouthed 'my lord?' past the small pleasant smile lingering on his face. Zeus' expression didn't change, aside from whatever shadow that'd briefly coloured his eyes was now gone. The brush of fingertips as the kylix changed hands was obvious, a silent answer to a silent question.

It also told Ganymede nothing.

With no other choice, he simply proceeded to Nereus, trying not to feel intimidated by the sea god's towering presence; both he and Doris, being of an earlier generation as they were, were both somewhat taller than Zeus. Ganymede tried not to think about the strange tension he'd seen, tried not to wonder why it hadn't been there until Zeus locked eyes on him. Tried not to wonder why the brief brush of fingers against his around the stem of the kylix had felt strangely comforting. There was nothing wrong - there was no reason for Zeus to feel the need to offer comfort. It was strange, and hardly suitable for a wedding.

For that was the thing; Ganymede could have understood it, been exasperated but understood it, if Zeus was once again feeling some lingering offense at how he'd been rebuffed by Thetis, even if that was for the better for him! But no. It hadn't been Zeus' temper that'd been darkening his eyes, but rather concern of some kind, and Ganymede didn't understand.

No matter. Maybe he could ask later, if he even remembered. Right now both he and Hebe were quite busy after having filled the kylikes of the wedding couple, with Peleus still looking somewhat stunned as well as proud, and Thetis... well. She wasn't unhappy, at least. More considering than not, and that was as good as could be hoped for in a situation like this, wasn’t it? Ganymede hoped she'd find her husband to her liking even if she hadn't gotten the sort of husband she honestly should have been able to, considering her status. Hebe and Ganymede parted from each other after pouring for the bride and groom with a last, exasperated glance shared between them to deal with the rest of the wide array of guests. Hebe hadn't been entirely wrong with her advice, Ganymede found. It did go quicker than he’d feared, but it was still a relief to have gone through them all and be able to retreat back to the krater, snatching Hebe's kylix out of her hand and filling it for her with a small smirk, handing it over with exaggerated showiness. She huffed silently and smiled, tipping her head to remind him to fill one for himself.

Compared to the effort and time it'd taken him and Hebe to go around the wedding party and fill all those kylikes, the drink-offering itself took a despairingly short amount of time to be consumed. Blessed was the knowledge that he was only attending Zeus and Hera for the rest of the night.

"I'm going to sit with Herakles. Don't forget to eat, Ganymede." Hebe raised her eyebrows, and it was her turn to smirk as Ganymede rolled his eyes.

"No, Hebe, I won’t forget." Sending her off with a flap of his hand, he went over to the larger krater, the one filled with nectar-infused wine instead of nectar alone, filled his pitcher and went back to stand between Zeus and Queen Hera. As if he ever forgot, or was too tense or nervous, to eat at feasts anymore! That had been a very long time ago, now. Actually, it truly was a very long time ago, Ganymede realized right then, and mostly the thought brought no sense of loss with it. Mostly; it was hard not to immediately end up thinking on what was now gone with all that time passed. Though while it still hurt to think about his family, it felt a little less acute nowadays, at least. Still having his grandfather and great-grandfather, as well as Elektra, too, certainly helped. A brief thought only, for the cheerful feasting around him was enough to pull Ganymede’s attention away from his thoughts.

The mountain meadow was a sprawling thing, but yet it was quite filled up by the guests. Mostly by the Nereids, of course, which was only to be expected considering the number of them, along with their lone brother. He stood out where he sat at one end of the two tables for them like a knife in a flower meadow. Not that Nerites was particularly sharp in terms of looks, tall and slender as he was. He barely looked older than Ganymede, and the shadowed suggestion of the beginnings of a beard would probably never grow into itself, never necessitating Nerites to decide what he was to do about it, but the sleek muscles the torchlight outlined cast him in sharp relief and contrasted against the softer smoothness of his sisters. His family must all have been very relieved when he finally got his proper shape back (Poseidon - and Amphitrite - being pleased was a given, after all), though that, too, was a long time ago now. 

Letting his gaze slide away from the collection of Nereids and over to the main table, Ganymede smothered a smile upon seeing that Chiron had gotten pulled into being seated between Apollo and Artemis. He looked as hassled as he looked content with his position, like he was back to being young under Apollo's guardianship instead of the teacher of heroes. Maybe it had something to do with Artemis' wide smirk, the hand in his hair, ruffling it before she was chased off with a smack to it from Apollo. That was cute. Attention wandering again, Ganymede found himself rather wishing he could be standing somewhere around the other side of the table, if just for a moment, for Eros, Hymen, Hermaphroditos and the rest very much looked like they were planning something. Ganymede was dearly interested in knowing what it was, as well as whether he’d like to avoid whatever it was like the plague, get in on it, or simply encourage but not participate. It'd have to wait, though. Case in point; the empty cup that came up into view. It took little thought to take the kylix and then bend down as he lifted the jug to pour, but he almost ended up spilling for once, when Zeus shoved a tender morsel of savory ambrosia into his mouth. He was grinning shamelessly at Ganymede as he pulled his hand away before the kylix barely had a couple drops of liquid gathering at the bottom.

Glowering and hoping he wasn't blushing - Hera seemed to have noticed nothing, and he hoped she hadn't, but did they really need to tempt her anger like this? _At a wedding_? She hardly deserved that. Zeus seemed unconcerned, secure in his wife having missed the byplay and Ganymede straightened up as he handed the kylix back, looking away from Doris' narrowed-eyed amusement when he accidentally locked eyes with her. Her smile deepened the fine wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, but neither they nor her finely bound, snow-white hair made her look as old as a mortal woman probably would at her apparent age.

Suppressing a sigh, Ganymede slowly chewed his little gift and could admit he was glad for it. He was planning on taking a plate for himself while the gifts were being given, before everyone would spread out for socializing and dancing. That’d been the plan; it was just that standing around waiting for that was actually proving more of a test than he'd thought it'd be. Maybe if he hadn't drunk as part of the wedding drink he might not be as aware of how much he wanted to eat at the moment...

A miscalculation he could live with when this part of the evening both took no time at all and a lot longer than Ganymede's stomach might have liked. Finally, though, the guests left their seats and Ganymede could steal Zeus' abandoned chair for himself while everyone gathered closer around the bridal couple. 

He only kept a distracted eye on the gift-giving while he focused on the food he’d gathered up for himself, half an ear pricked towards the speeches being made. It wasn't like the gifts were something he would need to know about, though when he saw the iridescent gleam of the wings Zeus handed over to Thetis he had to suppress another sigh. One far more jealous, this time. He really _would_ like to have wings of his own. To find out Zeus had just had a pair laying around made the sting of jealousy a little deeper. Maybe if he'd thought to _ask_ , he could have had them! Well. Too late now. And really, it didn't matter in the end. The chariots weren't the same as flying under his own power, but it was a perfectly nice way to go flying, and he’d gone with the Erotes plenty of times. As well, Zeus sometimes indulged him with a lot more personal "help" in getting to experience flying without doing it from a chariot drawn by horses.

Which might be why Zeus hadn't offered the wings if he even knew Ganymede might have wanted them. To be sure, Ganymede knew Zeus knew he was very fond of flying, and maybe Zeus was a lot fonder of those trips than he would outright say and would rather save helping Ganymede fly only under his own power. If that was it, Ganymede might, maybe, be able to accept not getting wings of his own.

Somewhere off to the right the Muses started singing while Chiron handed Peleus a stout spear, the head of it gleaming with the lines of Hephaistos' skill and workmanship, even from this distance. The sweet bridal hymn rose up into the blue air, and Ganymede tipped his head back while he chewed a piece of something that definitely had actual meat in the center of it. Stars were peeking out on the darkening sky above and not a cloud was to be seen. It was definitely a nice evening to have a wedding, though it was later in the year than was starting to get favoured among the mortals, drawing on the growing popularity of celebrating Zeus’ and Hera's marriage. This wasn't exactly a mortal wedding, though, and Ganymede supposed there was a reason in marrying Thetis and Peleus as soon as possible after he'd won her instead of waiting until later.

Perhaps mostly to remind Zeus and Poseidon both of the reason Thetis was marrying at all, rather than as any removal of temptation. Sighing, Ganymede dropped his gaze back down. Picked up a delicate twist of pastry-like ambrosia while Poseidon split the crowd around Thetis and Peleus, leading forward his own gift; two horses of the same stock the immortals used. Sweet filling spilled into his mouth and Ganymede closed his eyes - opened them right after and looked sideways, surprised to see Themis off at the edge of the crowd, nearly in among the trees, though she was turning back to step into the light again, sliding in next to a small group of Nereids. Was that the movement he'd seen? Mentally shrugging, Ganymede took another bite of the sweet piece of ambrosia just as something made a high, glittering arc through the air, catching gold in the light from the torches. 

Standing up, Ganymede tried to catch sight of what it was before it descended into the crowd nearest to Thetis and Peleus, but it was too small and fell too fast.

"Who's _throwing apples_ at a time like this?" Aphrodite's affronted cry rose up like a startled dove, sweet-winged and fluttering, and answered Ganymede's curiosity. He pressed his lips together and muffled his snort, shoving the rest of his jam-filled ambrosial pastry into his mouth.

"Ask your lover, perhaps," Athena said, tall enough in the crowd Ganymede could see her sharply arched eyebrows in addition to hearing the mocking lilt of her tone, barely hiding honest curiosity as she continued, "is something written on that?"

"Ares is standing _right here_. I assume you aren't blind, Tritonia."

Ganymede, helplessly curious now, stood up and started to walk over, sliding in among the nymphs ringing the outside of the knot around Thetis and Peleus. 

Would they really start an argument over an apple? At a wedding? It seemed ridiculous, but with Athena involving Ares when he impossibly could have done it - where were the Erotes, anyway? They'd clearly been planning something earlier, though apple-tossing seemed a bit of a weird prank to pull. Ganymede slid around Nerites with an arched look and a wry twist of his lips, getting a silent smirk and eyeroll in response while he looked around in search for the group, or just one of them. Caught the whole knot of them near the head of the table, mostly seeing them thanks to the number of wings in that direction. One of them could easily have tossed the apple, but they were all accounted for, and with so many people gathered in such a small space, Ganymede would definitely have seen the culprit slide in among the others again from where he'd been standing.

" _Kallistei_." Eros' voice danced with amusement, though it sobered up as he continued; "Guess that means it's yours, Mo---"

"Mine, I should think."

Ganymede paused, partway through the crowd as his eyebrows flew up high on his forehead. _Athena_!? She sounded so coolly collected about it, as if the answer was a given. Not that Athena was not plenty beautiful, if in a sharp, high-cheeked way. (Ganymede preferred not to think of how much she looked like Zeus, far more than any of his other children. It was just weird.) It was just... probably no one had expected to hear Athena claim a golden apple with such an inscription for herself; no one would have thought she would much _care_ about it. By the murmurs around him, baffled and surprised, everyone else was as surprised as Ganymede was.

"Beautiful but cold, Pallas," Aphrodite said with an impatient huff, "I think it's obvious it belongs to m---"

"Me." Hera's voice rang clear across the mountain meadow, stirring the shadows under the trees ringing the spring-clad space, draped in the warm veils of torchlight.

Oh no.

Ganymede started to back off immediately, made easier by the nymphs around scattering as well, clearly figuring it was better to get some distance at this point. They weren't the only ones to start to move; the whole crowd were by now beginning to ease up the tight knot they'd been in up until now, spilling out wider across the meadow and away from the head table. If anyone else was of a mind to claim the beautifully gleaming apple in Aphrodite's hand, no one would by now find it prudent to do so, given the goddesses who'd spoken up for it. Athena and Aphrodite alone were bad enough to contend with, but either alone might have drawn someone else to speak up despite the danger. With Hera now also stepping forward, none would be so reckless to go against not just the other two goddesses, but the Queen of Olympos herself.

"Claiming your right to the apple simply by the privilege of position hardly makes it a fair prize, Queen Hera," Aphrodite said, and there were not a few people who winced. What was Aphrodite thinking, slinging such choice of words around?

" _Simply_?" Hera's voice was ice, and the torches around the meadow flickered along with the fall of her pitch. "I would not need to use my rightful privilege to be fairly awarded such a gift."

Why it mattered so much at all, Ganymede wondered, even if Hera was indeed correct. The golden apples were sweet marvels of fruit, always perfectly formed, gleaming in the slightest light, crisply sweet if eaten. They were the most delightful bounty earth - as well as Gaia - had to offer, though it was of course now less about the beautiful fruit and more about the prize it represented by the word carved into it. Why did it matter? Ganymede looked around for an answer, and then realized it was all around him; a crowd to witness the whole spectacle, a crowd to have heard what was inscribed on the apple. A crowd that would know of the outcome. Of course it mattered, then. 

The clearing was silent now, the Muses having stopped singing, and distantly laughter could be heard, loud and overflowing with glee. Ares, Ganymede could just see, glanced towards where the laughter was echoing with from a brief look of exasperated acceptance on his face, then presumably back down to Aphrodite, who was far too short to be seen. Whether the three offended goddesses were paying attention to that, it clearly no longer mattered that this had been instigated from an outside source.

It was about pride.

"That being so, my right to the apple is no less than anyone else's, even when put against the two of you," Athena said, voice low and tight, faint spots of pink on her high cheeks and emphasizing the cut of her cheekbones, somewhat softer than her father's. She might have made her initial comment to needle Aphrodite, to throw her off from her smug certainty that she was, of course, the one who deserved the apple, the position it'd been made to represent, but now Athena found herself _caring_ , mocked by the golden gleam in Aphrodite's hand. Why _not_ her, in this case? Beauty was as individual as it was universal, and she was beautiful, even if she didn't usually care much for her personal beauty and put more weight in her skills and cleverness, which, honestly, lent their own beauty to her and world as well.

"Athena---" Hera exhaled sharply, meeting Athena's raised chin and narrow glare with a bright glower of her own. "This is ridiculous. Aphrodite, give the apple to my husband. _He_ will award it."

" _Your_ husband, Queen Hera," Aphrodite said sharply, even as she did turn, reluctantly taking the few steps she needed to come in front of Zeus and hand the apple over.

"You would accuse the King of Olympos to be an unfair judge?" Hera's voice was acid and silk suddenly, and Aphrodite pressed her lips together, squaring her shoulders but refusing to look over at Hera.

"Hardly. I know Father Zeus has a discerning eye and a fair mind to make wise judgement." Aphrodite smiled, sharply sweet and with a tilt to her head, and Zeus suppressed a sigh. Raised his head and voice both as he held up the golden apple.

"Anyone else present who wishes to make a claim?"

None did, of course, some even shrinking back a little from Zeus' wandering gaze. Shaking his head, he strode over to his and Hera's couch and sat down while Hera, Athena and Aphrodite followed, the crowd parting around them like a glass-still ocean around dancing dolphins. Despite the tense worry still faintly lingering in the air, now that there seemed to be little chance for anyone else to be dragged into it anticipation for the spectacle instead of worry or fear began to suffuse the meadow. Zeus was quiet for a while longer after sitting down, staring at the apple in his hand instead of the goddesses in front of him. When he finally looked up, he searched the crowd with a frown of his face instead of, again, looking to the goddesses.

"Ganymede." Zeus voice rang out through the throng of wedding celebrants, their eyes and attention on the three goddesses in front of the king of the gods, on their tense expressions and cheeks flushed with emotion, the stiff press of their usually soft lips. His call startled most of them, and they looked around, confused until the youth came forth.

"Yes, my lord?" Ganymede came out from between Artemis and Apollo, took a careful half-circle around Hera, Athena and Aphrodite, and put himself at Zeus' side. Did not reach for the jug standing nearby, for as much as Ganymede would really love for that to be what Zeus was asking his presence for, that seemed like a fairly ill-fitting interjection in the proceedings. What Zeus did do was perhaps both worse and sweeter than asking for liquid fortification. He held out the apple, gleaming in the light from the torches. Ganymede flushed, shifting on his feet, then paled. "Zeu---"

"Hold this for me until I am ready to award it," Zeus said, interrupting Ganymede’s tense whisper that nonetheless could have been as loud as a shout for how silent the whole mountain otherwise was, the air barely warmed by the crackle of the torches, the whisper of a breeze in the boughs of the beech trees.

" _Kronides_ \---"

"Father Zeus!"

Athena, Hera and Aphrodite all paused. Shared a glance that turned into a glower, but the pause may have been to the blessing of all three of them when Zeus' head snapped away from Ganymede and to the three goddesses. Meanwhile, Ganymede's slender hand froze in the air right above the apple, casting a shadow over it and turning its colour richly amber.

"This is a wedding," Zeus thundered, forbidding in every line of his body, in the weight of his voice, the glittering flash in his darkening eyes, "lest anyone has forgotten the blessed reason we have gathered here tonight. We will not split attention away from Peleus and his bride, radiant Thetis, and I don't feel like being reminded of this disturbance every time I flex my hand for the duration of the celebration. Prince Ganymede will carry it until later, and if I see anyone bother him for any reason other than the jug he carries, which none of you ought to be doing anyway as he is here in his capacity as my personal cupbearer, I am tossing them off this mountain and into the water all the way to Crete. Am I understood?"

Silence. Aphrodite pressed her lips together but dipped her head, turning sharply on her heels in a swirl of flounced skirts to stride over to Ares. Hera, meanwhile, turned sideways, walking along the table to where Thetis sat with Peleus. Athena crossed her arms over her chest and looked away; if she regretted her outburst over the apple, she was still not about to step down from her claim on it. Ganymede picked the apple up and took half a step back to end up partially behind Zeus. As he did so, the Muses slowly picked up their song again, and Apollo joined in as well.

"Here," Hermes whispered in Ganymede's ear, just barely yanking his head away to avoid getting cracked in the jaw from Ganymede's startled jerk. Looking up at Hermes in narrow-eyed confusion and silently swearing he was sure Hermes had been right beside Apollo and Artemis just a second ago, Ganymede's question went unasked as Hermes offered his bag. It was small, finely tooled and with subtle embroidery along every hem and edge; for all that it wasn't at all made with the tunic Ganymede was wearing in mind, tying it to his belt would make it look like it belonged there.

"... Thanks." It took him a beat, but when Hermes opened the bag, Ganymede dropped the apple in, took the bag, and tied it to his belt, shooting Hermes a small, tight smile. He was thankful, honestly. Not having to carry the apple around in one of his hands for the rest of the night would be really helpful. Not just for him, but for everyone, he suspected. He still didn't move from where he'd put himself practically hidden behind Zeus while Hermes grinned at him, clapped a hand on his shoulder and left, if not without a glance shared between father and son.

At least the rest of the celebration continued with no disruptions, and the couple, when they left, looked surprisingly content. It was probably as good of a start as it could be. If that could be all there was to this, a lot of people would undoubtedly have been content as well. It was not. Ganymede found Zeus late the next morning and handed the apple back over, since there’d been no chance to give it back before now. Zeus took it with a sigh and grimace so small Ganymede almost missed it.

"I'm sure Athena won't begrudge you your decision, my lord," he said, stepping close instead of leaving to find Hermes and give him his bag back, reaching out to curve a hand, so small in comparison, around the thick meat of Zeus' lower arm. "And if you know Aphrodite might do something, you could guard yourself, couldn't you?"

Or get back at her. Again. Zeus had very recently finally retaliated against Aphrodite for her (and Eros') meddling several times and impelling him to affairs with several mortal women, after all.

"I could. But I'm not giving _anyone_ the apple just yet, sweet Ganymede," Zeus said, reaching out to cradle his face in one hand, one thumb stroking his cheek, the other still holding the golden apple, casting shadow over the first couple letters of the word carved into it. Zeus' stare was heavy, and Ganymede almost got lost in it, almost forgetting the confusion Zeus' words had stirred.

"... You're not?" Ganymede blinked, eyebrows arching up like fleeing doves on his forehead. "Why not?"

He'd thought Zeus would want to be done with the apple as soon as possible, considering the mess it’d caused. More than that, Zeus undoubtedly knew that if he hadn't expressly barred Eris from the wedding, she wouldn't have resorted to this instead of simply shunning the proceedings like she and Enyo usually did. Instead, here was Zeus saying he wouldn't get rid of the evidence of his lapse in judgement as soon as he could?

"Some things must necessarily wait," Zeus said, and Ganymede frowned, wondering over that ‘necessary’. What was _necessary_ about waiting with awarding the apple? _How_ could it be--- 

Remembering that strange conversation from two days ago now, Ganymede opened his mouth, but Zeus continued before he had a chance to say anything, though it would mostly have been expressing his confusion. What did _ananke_ had to do with this golden apple, anyway? 

"And if I show proper consideration for the choice, which may take a fair amount of time if only to make sure it's obvious I _did_ think about it, perhaps the angry hearts of these dove-clad hawks will be soothed by the distance of time and not be quite so needful of bloody restitution to balm their wounded offense when they don't get chosen."

Snorting, Ganymede laughed. "I don't understand what's so _necessary_ about it, but if waiting does manage to soothe enough of their anger they simply accept your decision, I think it'd be worth it."

Zeus smiled, a small, strangely dark thing, and stroked both apple and cheek once more in a slow, considering caress. "Even small actions are necessary, sometimes, but it should be for the best."

Ganymede was of course left no less confused by that. Zeus, meanwhile, could only hope it was true. He was taking great care with this, and all he needed now was the right person to command to award the apple. It couldn't be just anyone; it unfortunately needed to be someone from Troy, but aside from that Zeus would not countenance anything less than someone who was fair in their judgement. It was vital, both for that judgement to be accepted and for what would spring from it.


	5. Epilogue: Alexander of Troy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeus' plan is ruined.

There'd been a plan. It had been a very nice plan, while bowing to the necessity of involving Troy at all. It wasn't his favoured course of events, but to ease Gaia's burden and not seem to be shirking his duty compared to the other spheres along with fulfilling the necessity of this happening at all, the course of events where most people died had to be taken. So. The plan.

It would have been a _great_ plan, and it would have done what was needed while most probably leaving Troy standing after. (Aeneas was always going to leave the Troad and be the seed of an empire, regardless of what happened. That future shone like a star, swollen and bright, in the sky.) 

Zeus would have preferred this plan to have worked out, not only due to Troy being as beloved as it was to him, but he would also rather not see the darkness in Ganymede's eyes that would come from this. Inevitable, now, for the hidden snag in this nice plan had, apparently, lain in the fact that Alexander of Troy didn't have so much as a sliver of tactical thinking in his bones, though his judgement was usually beyond reproach. Hera ought to have been the obvious choice; no matter what any goddess' individual pride wished, Hera was indeed the most beautiful of them all. 

If his lovely, terrible wife and his fantastic, infuriating daughter, as well as radiant, even more infuriating Aphrodite hadn't brought bribes into it, then Hera would definitely have won. Paris' usually excellent impartiality would have seen to that. Zeus had, to be sure, considered the possibility that the goddesses might try to influence Alexander beyond presenting their beauteous visages, but given each and every probable gift they might present as incentive, Zeus had still assumed Hera would win. Again, even a sliver of tactical thinking would have seen to it, and that would've lead events away from Troy as anything but being the staging ground for the war that would sweep around the sphere and beyond with Hera chosen.

Alexander of Troy was just also as dumb as he was pretty, and apparently didn't realize that if one waged war against the whole of Europe and Asia and became king of it, one could have any woman one well pleased. In such wise, Helen would have been his either way when Sparta was conquered. Hera being awarded the apple would most probably have left Troy standing while leaving even more people dead, neatly accomplishing the goal while sparing one of his most favoured cities. Now, Hera would furiously work towards Troy’s fall for her wounded pride, for just killing Paris would not be enough to make up for it in her mind.

Alexander of Troy was an idiot, and thus human weakness and lack of forethought had ruined Zeus' nice little plan. Had ruined his peace of mind. Now he'd have to scramble and hope he could rescue as much as possible, but the star rising next to Aeneas' bled red and baleful light.


End file.
